


They Raised Monuments To Our Sins

by letitrainathousandflames



Series: Clone Trooper Files [11]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, More Hurt Than Comfort, Order 66 Aftermath, Other, Post-Order 66, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Survivor Guilt, Whump, post-jedi purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24276040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letitrainathousandflames/pseuds/letitrainathousandflames
Summary: Fox muses over what happened to him and the other clones after order 66, and an old friend shows up unexpectedly.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Clone Trooper Files [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/863840
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	They Raised Monuments To Our Sins

The only time the clone troopers were recognized and praised for their work was when they were forced to slaughter their generals, their friends. Their only recognition came after the Jedi purge.

After learning of the Jedi’s attempt to the life of the Supreme Chancellor, on democracy itself, and hearing of the clone troopers’ brave choice to stand with the republic - now the Galactic Empire - and kill those traitors where they stood, the people sung praises to the armored soldiers, thanked them whenever they saw one of the soldiers patrolling the streets of Coruscant, and even demanded a statue representing a clone trooper to be placed next to the Senate building.

Commander Fox of the Coruscant guard raised his eyes to the effigy towering in front of him. It portrayed a clone trooper with blaster raised ahead, the Senate building farther ahead behind him as if under his guard. The ground by his feet was littered with clone trooper - stormtroopers, as they were called now - helmets, representing those fallen in the fight to maintain order.

Most people thought the tall obsidian wall behind him had engraved stripes on it, but if one bothered to inspect it closer, they would see that every inch of had been covered in listings of dead troopers.

Fox had been summoned to inspect something that had been target of questions and complains lately - the large aurebesh graffiti on it, painted on a deep blue shade he knew too well, the same of Commander Appo’s unit, the 501st.

The graffiti covered the entire wall, reading: “we are born slaves, we live as slaves, we die as slaves”; Under it, it continued: “the innocent jedi blood will always be in our hands”. And, beneath that, a word was written over and over until the wall was entirely covered in paint:

Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives Fives

Fox looked up at the ~~clone~~ stormtrooper statue, noticing that someone seemed to have taken a hammer and nail to where his right temple would be under the helmet, denting the durasteel and making a circular hole there a few inches deep. He touched his own helmet on the same place, wondering what it all meant.

-

That night, he requested his ARC trooper to cover his shift for him. Unprofessional, yes, but the sight of the statue and the wall left him with what felt like an itch he couldn’t scratch in his brain. Before he could chastise himself for doing so, his feet were carrying him back to the square, now lit by a few streetlamps and completely empty. That part of the city was mostly dead at night – no stores or restaurants there, only the official buildings that were out of duty that late.

Fox was a lonely shadow in the square, staring at the statue – the cleaning commissioned by the government would start the following morning, and soon enough the cryptic message would no longer be there.

Fox noticed someone approaching from his side, and he didn’t know if it was the fact that they were dressed in clone armor or the fact that he did not expect an ambush at this particular situation, but he took too late to draw his blaster, and soon the man was standing in front of him, hands up in a clear demonstration of peace.

It only took Fox a quick glance to recognize the pauldrons and kama, his eyes finally resting at the jaig eyes painted on the white helmet. His hand jumped to his holster, and he quickly drew his blaster, pointing it at the clone’s chest.

“You…!”

“Calm down, Fox.” Rex’s voice came through the speakers of his helmet, that same cadence of every vod’s voice carrying through his words “I’m not here to fight you.”

Fox fixed his grip on his blaster.

“You’re a _traitor!_ ”

“No, I am not.” Rex said, reaching for the clasps of his helmet, unsealing it and slowly pulling it off to reveal himself; he looks tired, his previously neatly trimmed blond hair now growing into a fuzz, his face darkened by a five o’clock shadow; there was a scar on his right temple, right where the statue had been damaged “I’m a clone trooper, just like you. And we need to speak, brother.”

Rex tucked his helmet under his arm and Fox jerked his blaster forward, pushing its muzzle against Rex’s chestplate with a metallic clink that seemed to echo into the night.

“I’m not your brother, you kriffing traitor!” Fox growled, scowl deepening in his features “You disgraced your battalion, abandoned them at their moment of need! The only way you could’ve redeemed yourself would be dying in battle for your men! You being alive and breathing only means that they died for nothing while you hid away like a coward!”

Fox had his blaster at the ready. He could shoot Rex at any moment, but he believed he owed his fellow vod’e to make sure he died knowing how he had wronged them.

“Appo is still trying to clean the reputation of the 501st after you soiled it with your actions! The messages relayed by Jesse let everyone know that you sided with a traitor Jedi, that you chose her over the republic, over your own brothers!”

Rex did not flinch at the blaster being pressed to his sternum, ready to shoot him point-blank, his eyes remaining focused and calm even as Fox angrily spat at his feet, eyes burning at his brother.

“She had done nothing wrong.” Rex said flatly, tone calm like the one they had been instructed to use in negotiations “Nor have any of the other generals. Much less the jedi and _children_ that my men killed in the temple.”

“We had orders.” Fox said tensely, his eyes narrowing at Rex “Orders we were expected to follow, that _you_ were expected to follow.”

“Obeying questionable orders without question isn’t right, and you know it. We are not droids.”

“We are soldiers! We were bred and trained to follow orders, to obey.” Fox squinted at Rex “When the hells did you forget this?”

Rex sighed, or maybe he scoffed, waving his head.

“When my general in charge ordered me to shoot to kill at my own brothers of the 212th. When he betrayed us and sliced three of my men into bits in front of my eyes. When we were ordered to go back under heavy fire to retrieve a Jedi general’s body so that he could be buried, even if we had to die for it, while the body of his clone commander was left to rot in a ravine.”

Fox shook his own head, looking at Rex’s belt for a moment to see if he was unarmed to then lower his weapon.

“This is part of the job.”

“This is not a job.” Rex said between his gritted teeth “It’s slavery.”

Fox took a couple of steps back, eyes still trained on Rex.

“I don’t have time for your agitator talk, Rex”

“And yet you are listening.”

Fox raised his blaster again, pointing it at Rex’s head and scowling.

“Just tell me what you want from me before I blast you dead.”

Rex stared at him for a long moment, and the two troopers shared that brief silence in contemplation. Fox’s armor was different now, still carrying a few markings that identified him as a commanding officer, but most of his individuality had been stripped. It was a stark contrast to Rex’s armor, the kama on his hips and the tally marks drawn all over his vambraces and helmet, and the jaig eyes above his visor.

Rex turned his head to gaze at the night sky above them.

“That night at the warehouse… All your troopers had stuns in their blasters, except for you.” He lowered his head to look back at Fox “Yours had real heat. Why was that?”

Fox blinks in confusion, frowning. From the very back of his mind, he remembers the chancellor pulling him aside and speaking in a voice that made his brain feel like it had been wrapped in cotton wool.

_“I want lethal force to be used on that clone. You must terminate him.”_

_“Sir…” Fox remember having said “He’s an ARC trooper, Captain Rex trusts him with his life. He offers no danger, he…”_

_“This is my order to you, as a soldier, and you will follow.”_

_Chancellor Palpatine’s words made him feel even more detached from himself, and he recalls having mumbled:_

_“Good soldiers… follow orders.”_

“He was dangerous. The ARC trooper-”

“His name was Fives.” Rex interrupts him, sounding angry for the first time

“He had to die! I had to-” Fox frowned, lowering the blaster again and shaking his head

“Even you don’t believe that, vod.”

Fox grits his teeth, eyes going from one side to another.

“It was an accident!”

“That’s more like it.” Rex says like he’s playing a game of clue, leading Fox to a prize he won’t yet reveal “You knew him. Not too well, but you did. We had drinks together, we had joint missions to protect the senators during attacks to Cosruscant, you knew Fives. You knew he was a good man.”

Fox’s head hurts like it’s being squeezed by a wookie, and he hastily pries his helmet off his head, letting it fall to the ground with a dull clatter.

“No. I- I never…” he brings his free hand to his forehead, his throat feeling narrow “I didn’t want to! I didn’t! But my orders… Good soldiers… Good soldiers follow orders, good soldiers… follow… orders…”

“The same thing happened with every commanding trooper, all of them opened fire at the people they had sworn to protect, their generals, their friends. I know, Fox, because I felt it too, all my rational thought being replaced by a visceral bloodthirst that made me fire at my commander and send every trooper under my command after her with orders to shoot to kill. She was my friend, she was… like a sister to me.”

Rex took a step closer, voice fraying at the edges.

“And I know that Appo and every men in Torrent Company would never willingly shoot at unarmed jedi and _little children_ , moons, no matter where in the nine hells the order to do so had come from. They would question, and refuse, and die standing if they had to, but they wouldn’t ever do that atrocity. Boost and Sinker would never willingly fire at their General’s ship. You know them as much as I do, vod! You know it!”

Fox jerks his weapon forward, aims the blaster right between Rex’s brown eyes, his teeth bared and his breath coming in shallow huffs.

“Shut up!” he screams, and his voice carries through the night “Shut up, they had it coming, they…!” he opens and closes his mouth, wetting his lips and moving his eyes around like he’s desperately seeking for an answer that never comes “We had orders, we…!” his finger shakes over the trigger, threatens to squeeze it “KRIFFING HELLS!”

The blaster drops down from his weak fingers, and Fox clutches his head between his hands. Rex hesitates to then walk up to him, reaching for his arm. Fox fought back, wrenching his hand away but Rex caught his wrist, fighting until he could wrestle Fox into a hug, the commander still weakly trying to break free from his arms.

“We didn’t want to… we didn’t…” he gasped, and his sight grew blurry, tears stinging at his eyes and spilling over his cheeks “Manda, none of us did… and we couldn’t stop… we couldn’t…”

Rex holds him with all his might. He remembers the day he punched Fox into a bloody pulp a couple of weeks after he had killed Fives. The inherent bond between brothers that every trooper had for one another no matter what felt like it had been severed between them after the ARC trooper’s death. But after learning of Order 66, of Sidius’ true identity, Rex couldn’t help but feel sorry for the Commander. None of that had been his fault. None of this tragedy was their fault.

Fox seemed to finally had given up the struggle, slumping into Rex’s arms and pressing his face to the captain’s pauldrons, his own shoulders jumping under his sobs.

“It made so much _sense_ back then. We felt _proud_. Those of us that had successfully… eliminated their target received medals of valor for it.” Fox squeezed his eyes tight, the tears running non-stop now “And just last week… Bly’s men found him in his office, the medal and a holo of General Secura on his desk… he killed himself, Rex! Shot his own head, and I couldn’t understand why, just assumed he’d gone defective… Stars, what have we done…”

Rex shut his eyes in pain, grieving the lost friend. Everyone in the troops knew of Bly and Aayla’s case. He could only imagine how it must have pained him to realize, past the daze of order sixty-six, that he had shot his beloved point-blank like a droid.

“It’s not our fault.” Rex said, and he wasn’t entirely sure if he was speaking to Fox or himself “They planted a chip in our brains since our tubes, and it was activated by order sixty-six. We were already doomed even before we were decanted. There was nothing we could have done to stop this.”

Fox cries harder into his arms, and Rex understands; knowing what happened and how doesn’t ease the pain, doesn’t fix what is broken, doesn’t wake the dead. The two men stand there, clone trooper and stormtrooper, and after what feels like several long minutes, Fox pulls back some, discreetly wiping his eyes.

“Leave Coruscant. I’ll turn my back now, and you’ll be gone, copy that?”

Rex frowns in confusion, shaking his head.

“No… No, vod, I came to bring you back.” He points at the scar on his head “We can fix this, we can free you too. You don’t have to stay. You don’t have to serve them.”

Fox leans down to pick up his helmet, hiding his face away under the safety of the white plastoid.

“And then what? I’m not like you, Rex, I’m not strong enough to just… desert the army. This is all I have.”

“We could fight against the Empire! We could fight for what’s right!”

Fox shook his head, and Rex could almost see the disillusioned smile he hid.

“I fought all my life for what I thought was right, and it turned out that both sides were wrong. I can’t bear to go through this again. I’m sorry.”

Rex’s eyes widened, tears collecting at their corners while Fox picked up his blaster, sinking it in his holster again.

“So you would rather continue to be their slave instead?!”

This time it was Fox who looked up to the night sky. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done that – always too busy commandeering his men and watching over his shoulder; it was beautiful, thousands and thousands of twinkling dots shining against the backdrop of endless black.

“Like you said: we are born slaves, we live as slaves and we die as slaves. I’m used to it.”

“But-”

“I can’t wash the blood off my hands, Rex. I hate myself, I hate my vod’e and what we have become, but at the very least, all there’s left for me to do is follow orders and wait for my time to die. It’s peaceful. It’s what I need. Don’t be cruel giving me hope. I can’t stand it.” He sighed heavily, the sound hissing through his speakers “I’ll enjoy the stars a bit more, and when I look back down, I won’t be your vod anymore. I hope you are gone by then.”

Rex merely stared at him for a couple of long minutes before nodding, placing his own helmet on his head again.

“I’ll miss you, brother.”

Fox merely nodded, and soon he could hear the sound of footsteps dying away, followed by the hiss of a jetpack. He sighed, gazing at the stars and feeling thankful for the helmet that hid the tears that streamed down his face.

“I’ll miss you too.”


End file.
